The Wind Blows

The wind blows hot.

The wind blows cold.

“Which way is the world turning, mama?”

My son asks me.

And I don’t know.

“Well,” he continues, 

“If the scientists at nasa want to shoot

A rocket to the sun at night,

Which way it up?

Which way down?”

“I’m thinking,” I say, but that’s not true.

I quit dissecting long ago.

Now all I know is,

The winds blow hot,

The winds blow cold.

It doesn’t matter. 

It’s all the same to me.

-jenn